Can I Be Your Wonderwall?
by coffee-stained lips
Summary: "You think I'm just another retard in a wheelchair."/"I don't think that. I'll never think that." Oneshot


**My first ever _Glee_ fic! And it's a...Quartie? Yes, maybe surprising a first-time Gleek would write about a couple with only a few fics under their belt but I think they're cute. Still I'm a Finchel, Quick, and Artina fan so maybe more popular ships are to come. I don't own "Wonderwall"; Oasis does. After writing this, I really want Artie or Quinn to sing this on the show.**

A hard task for Artie was always talking to girls. He could talk to them as a companion, but not as anything more than that. His confidence was never high like that of Puck's; of course, Puck _deserved_ to have so much confidence, dating a different girl every day. But for Artie it was difficult to just say hi. He always blamed it on his paralysis. While other guys were playing football or dancing on stage, he sat there in the crowd on his wheels. Girls swooned over the Peyton Manning and Michael Jackson replicas—not the disabled singers. He never had a chance. Prince Charmings rode in on horses, not wheelchairs.

He watched the Cheerios take a break by the benches on the football field. Drinking from their water bottles, they gazed at the bulky football players rushing past with longing glints in their eyes. They meowed and called out to the boys in an attempt to get their attention, never unsuccessful. Karofsky and Azimio gladly responded to the hot cheerleaders' interest by showing off their muscles and hogging the ball. Puck and Finn too—Puck more so—tried showing the girls their own football skills, but the Cheerios ignored them due to their "Gleekness". _Wish that was all that drove girls away from me,_ Artie thought, cocking his head dismally. With a sigh, he decided he wouldn't torture himself any longer and rolled away.

Inside the McKinley school, he saw Rachel looking hassled, her brunette hair flying up as she jogged unladylike down the hallway. In her hands was a huge stack of papers, some of which looking as though they were about to fall from her hands. He stopped wheeling to watch her and, upon seeing him, she changed her straight stride to walk up to him.

"Oh, Artie, thank goodness!" Rachel panted, "Could you please take this sheet music to choir room for me? I need to go to the Mock United Nations Club meeting now, and I just don't have time!" Artie would've said yes anyway but couldn't reply with any answer for Rachel lowered the papers into his arms and rushed off without a word. Carefully balancing the sheet music on his knees, Artie wheeled himself in the direction of the choir room.

He was debating to himself on how to open the door from his low seat to find it was already slightly cracked. Artie pushed the door aside with his foot and found someone sitting in one of the chairs, stroking her pregnant belly. He blushed when he noticed Quinn; she was a very pretty girl, perhaps one of Lima, Ohio's prettiest. Her attitude may not have been beautiful in the past but she had shaped up after the baby, joining Glee, and getting kicked off the Cheerios. Still, though, he bet she thought as low of him as everybody (but the other Glee kids) did.

"Hey, Artie." she greeted softly after noticing him too. He gave her a nod, saying nothing, and rolled himself to the piano. "What's that you got?" His blue eyes looked over to her and saw she was now standing and moving her way towards him. The blush increased in heat and his hands started to feel sweaty.

"Sheet music," he replied, his voice cracking somewhat, "Rachel was going to bring it but she didn't have time. So I got stuck with it." Quinn gave a small laugh at his unintended joke and Artie smiled because she wasn't laughing _at_ him, like usual.

"Ah." she said. Her hands reached out to the top paper in Artie's lap as he lifted the rest of the stack up onto the piano. She read over the lyrics while he made sure the pile wouldn't tip over and fall onto the floor with the slightest touch. After he was done he watched her: her mouth curved up into a sweet smile, making him wonder what the song was that made her so cheery.

"Have you ever heard this song?" Quinn asked, giving him the paper. He took it in his wet palm and read the lyrics on the page. A reluctant smile came upon him too—it was Oasis's "Wonderwall", a personal favorite of his. He was excited to see it; maybe Mr. Schue was going to let him sing it for Glee Club. It'd be so tremendous if he did.

"Yeah," Artie said, looking up to meet her hazel-colored irises, "Oasis. They're my favorite." Quinn nodded and bit down on her lower lip thoughtfully. He saw her gaze travel to the guitar perched against the wall by him.

"Have you ever sung it?" she asked. It being his favorite song, Artie had indeed sung it quite a few times. However, it was always alone in his room. Never had he sang it in front of an audience other than his reflection in the mirror. The idea of singing it for the first time in front of someone with that someone being Quinn Fabray frightened him a bit.

"Not really." he said, avoiding her stare. He could feel the blonde's eyes looking at his nicely-combed head, mocking him within her mind he bet. She was higher on the food chain than him, even with being an ex-cheerleader and the other things she was now Slushee'd for. Movement from her made Artie look up: she was picking up the guitar and bringing it to him. With a grin—a trustworthy grin; not the kind most girls like her would have—she handed him the guitar and put the sheet music for "Wonderwall" on the piano.

"Can't say that anymore." Quinn said, pulling up a chair to sit in by him. Artie held the guitar like a child in his arms and said nothing while she watched him, waiting patiently for his fingers to strum the instrument. He decided to just do as she wanted; he swallowed the fear and started to play. Soft music echoed around the choir room, sending the teenagers into a state of bliss. Quinn swayed in a serene manner as Artie continued to pluck the strings.

"_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you_." he sang, his rough voice enhancing the beauty of the song, "_By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now._" He sucked in a breath of air in preparation to sing the next part but a melodic voice sang before him.

"_Backbeat the word was on the street that the fire in your heart is out._" Quinn sang, her soft voice replacing the coarser one of the original singer, but not at all ruining the sound. "_I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now._" Artie delivered the girl a smile; she was excellent.

"_And all the roads we have to walk are winding,_" they sang in unison, "_and all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how. Because maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me._"

"_And after all,_" Artie sang, now on his own. "_you're my wonderwall_." Originally he planned to go in for the second verse but Quinn was watching him so intently he began to develop a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach, so he stopped. Her placid body movements now become rigid again at the disappearance of his lovely voice.

"That was…really good, Artie." she complimented, patting his knee. He humbly lowered his head and shrugged, feeling very good at receiving a compliment from Quinn. But it wouldn't be smart to linger on it; her feelings would most certainly not be romantic.

"Thank you." he said, "You're not half bad yourself." She giggled at his display of fondness for her angelic voice.

"Thanks," she said, "Yours is better though. A perfect voice for a perfect guy." Artie's joy at her liking his singing vanished when she uttered the word perfect. He was far from perfect. Quinn had to be teasing him with that word, stamping it on him like it was really true. He was a dang nerdy cripple, for Pete's sake; it was insulting for her to call him perfect like that.

"Perfect." he muttered, "Sure." He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Quinn to hear his bitter whisper but she did so it didn't matter.

"What's wrong?" she said, "Did I say something wrong?" He dropped the guitar on the linoleum, not wanting to touch it anymore, and wheeled to see her face-to-face.

"Please don't mock me with that word." he said, "You don't think I'm perfect. You think I'm just another retard in a wheelchair." With that spoken Artie gripped the wheels of his chair and rolled out of the choir room. He couldn't take another unneeded rejection; he knew he was unwanted for love by girls, and he didn't want Quinn reminding him.

He expected to leave in acrimony but something spun him around, causing his swift departure to be thwarted. The person who had stopped him from leaving the school was none other than Quinn. It was expected to be her, of course. Her eyes glistened with tears (she cried often nowadays) and guilt filled him at the prospect of making her sad enough to sob.

"I don't think that." she whispered hoarsely, "I'll never think that." Their eyes met with a spark; only their shaken breathing made noise in the abandoned hallway. The two of them had never once shared such a moment like this together—they'd never even spoken more than three words to the other.

"But have you?" Artie asked. He knew what her answer would be. It'd be the same answer everyone would give. Quinn dipped her head in shame.

"Well…yes," she said, "but I don't anymore. After I joined Glee and met you—really met you—I discovered you weren't…what I thought. You were a sweet, loveable guy with an unfortunate disability. Yes, I used to joke with the Cheerios that you were a loser but—"

"Then you became a loser, so it didn't matter?" he said.

"Please stop, Artie." she begged, the tears beginning to fall, "No, not when I became a loser. I used to joke but then I saw how great you were. You're sweeter than Puck, stronger than Finn, better than Kurt at singing"—Artie had to laugh at that last one—"and I just think you're a good guy. A perfect guy." Quinn went onto her knees and took Artie's hands. He held her petite hands tight in reassurance.

"You're my wonderwall," she said, "You brighten up the day's gloom by being so happy and upbeat, even with your chair. You're more optimistic than most guys with legs about life." She gave a feeble smile. "I want to be your wonderwall too." Artie gazed at Quinn's tearstained face: this girl was literally on her knees with the desire to be with him and be his wonderwall. No girl had ever wanted Artie to be her boyfriend—rarely wanted him as her friend. The idea was nerve-wracking for him.

"Maybe we can be each other's." he said, and Quinn, happier than she'd been all these nine months, gave him an amorous hug.

* * *

_And after all…_

_You're my wonderwall…_


End file.
